The intrinsic value of Super Bowl 50, conceptually, will never matter more than it does right now. Your imagination can accommodate the idea that an ideal Super Bowl is possible. You can take some comfort in the notion that the unobserved Super Bowl that only exists in your semi-conscious mind, and on your terms alone, will be an experience that fulfills you. Here and now, Super Bowl 50 could not be more precious.
The moment it becomes possible to begin observing Super Bowl 50 (or Super Bowl L, if you prefer) -- 6:30 p.m. Eastern Time on Feb. 7 -- the value of the ideal Super Bowl 50 (or "L") will begin to depreciate. You will spend the next few hours, bearing witness to mankind's inherent flaws. Possibilities will begin to restrict themselves. Expectations will go unmet. The infinite spectacle that you once imagined was possible will prove itself to be quotidian and earth-bound, like so many other experiences you once imagined for yourself.
"What a good game!" you might say, afterwards. But deep down, you'll understand that at best, you will be describing one more moment of your life that was, at best, adequate.
Just as the moment we are born, we start dying, so too will the Super Bowl slowly erode, before your eyes, as another ideal that the grotty and base mechanics of this curse we call "life" grinds down into dust. It will be one more experience that serves merely as a mile-marker, noting the passage of time, on this planet, hurtling through empty space in a rapidly expanding universe that is utterly indifferent to works of mankind, be they televised or not.
Some solace: you can make some hot wings. With fun sauces. These too, of course, will fade from existence, leaving only a greasy ache in the pit of your stomach reminding you that you are alive. So you'll make some more.
This is your life now.
Jason Linkins edits "Eat The Press" for The Huffington Post and co-hosts the HuffPost politics podcast, "So, That Happened." Subscribe here. Listen to the latest episode below.